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Only in America	By : EldritchSandwich Category: +S through Z > Saints Row Views: 10317 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Saints Row franchise or any of its characters, and I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
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When she was nineteen, Skins Ortega also learned that liked to be watched.
She looked over at Sam, who looked back worriedly. The buxom dirty-blond stripper crossed her arms over her pastie-clad nipples, sparing a glance for the Latina's own. "Are you sure you can handle this?"
The genuine concern in Sam's voice made America feel off. She shook her head. "You're the one who doesn't like blood. What, are we just supposed to let the Vice Kings pimp out every little girl they want?"
Sam blushed, which America couldn't help thinking was an odd expression to see on someone who took her clothes off (and probably more) for a living. "No, of course not. You think I want Tanya Winters up my ass? That's not what I meant. If we're going to do this, we'll have to...play the part."
America couldn't help a sly smile as her hand trailed up the blonde's exposed ass cheek. "Funny, last weekend you didn't seem to mind...playing the part."
Sam rolled her eyes, but didn't break the touch. "We didn't have an audience. You don't exactly seem like the sleazebag's sex slave type. You gonna manage to not break the fingers off any guy who tries to cop a feel?"
"Well if you're right, that won't be a problem."
"Not with Reyes. He likes to watch. But if his goons get a little grabby first, you have to not start beating the shit out of them, or we're gonna have a lot of new holes for them to grope."
America sighed. Two 'Vice King' hos killing one of the Carnales' top dealers right under Tanya Winters' nose was exactly what the Saints needed. "I can deal."
Sam grinned. "Who knows, you might like it."
America scowled playfully. "Don't make me spank you."
The blonde giggled. "And Reyes might like that."
America huffed. "Well, I guess we'll see."
"He's back in one of the private rooms. Just let me do the talking and don't get me killed. Please. Or yourself."
America followed the blonde wordlessly through the brothel's back corridors until finally coming to a door with a heart-shaped plaque. Sam pushed it open to reveal six red-clad bodyguards, each of whom went for their guns when the door opened only to relax when they saw the girls. The short, hairy Colombian sitting on the dingy red couch didn't move. He just leered.
Sam smiled demurely, and America angled her eyes as close to the floor as she could without taking her eyes off of him. "Hello. Mister Reyes? Madam Winters thought you might like us."
Reyes grinned, not bothering to look at anything but the two pairs of barely-covered breasts crossing toward him. "Well, well. Who's this chica?"
"This is Elena, sir. She's one of Madam Winters' new...acquisitions from Puerto Rico."
Reyes grinned a grin that America admitted, had she indeed been a terrified sex slave fresh off the boat, she might have found comforting. "Por mucho que pagó por ti, chica, no basta."
The way he said it, she supposed calling her lifetime of sexual slavery a bargain was supposed to be a compliment. She just flicked her eyes up toward his for a moment in a gesture she hoped seemed both grateful and bashful.
"¿Eres virgen?"
America swallowed. "N...no, señor."
The grin just widened. He turned to Sam. "You both know what I want to see?"
"Yes, Mister Reyes, Jeanie told me and I told her. She seemed...intrigued."
"Good girl," he purred. "Then bailan. Dance for me."
The beat of some derivative Latin rhythm drowned out the echoing music from the club outside, and America followed Sam's lead as the stripper began to grind her hips, every other swish bringing their bare ass cheeks into contact. Reyes stared intently, and before long Sam turned the Latina toward her, breasts brushing together and hands running over each other's backs and thighs. When America peeled away Sam's pasties and leaned down to suckle a plump pink nipple with a hum of arousal, Reyes leaned forward.
America sucked in a breath as Sam's warm fingers peeled back her pasties, revealing her stiffening brown nipples to the muggy air. Sam tugged her up for a kiss, their hands massaging each other's breasts and the blonde's leg wrapped around hers, grinding their crotches together.
"Yes, bueno. Now the panties. Slowly..."
Sam and America took turns stripping away each other's g-strings, Sam raising America's to her nose with a hum.
Reyes groaned. "How does she smell?"
"So good," Sam growled. "They're soaking wet..." Sam let the scrap of cloth drop, leaning in for another kiss, America's hands kneading her ass cheeks, pulling them wide to reveal the rosebud between them.
"Lamele," Reyes rumbled. America's answer was a moan as she kneeled down, eager to comply even if it was for a druglord's pleasure.
She knew Sam's slender, sensitive pussy well, and the first swipe of her tongue made the stripper moan. America felt her own juices start to flow as she greedily lapped up Sam's, the heady scent making her hum in approval.
It wasn't until Sam rolled her down to the floor, turning to part the Latina's own dripping cunt lips with her fingers, that America remembered their audience. To her shock, the stares of Reyes and his bodyguards only made her moan louder when Sam's tongue parted her folds.
This was hardly the first time she and the nubile blonde stripper had been in this position, but from her place on the floor America only had to open her eyes to see Reyes and his goons leering. When she did, the added thrill spurred her to come, shivering, against Sam's lips.
Reyes leaned forward farther, eyes glowing. "Fueran," he growled. As one, the bodyguards stood and left, leaving the door ajar only slightly.
America hardly even noticed. Since her awakening, the muscular and charismatic Latina had fucked more that her share of strippers and masseuses, but Sam had always been one of her favorites. Her taste was exquisite, and the dilligent tongue working between America's thighs was proof that her lust for women had to do with more than money. When Sam came, America gulped down the salty cream greedily. Then as one they rose, sliding their still-soaked cunts up along Reyes' legs, his hard-on obvious between them.
"DId you like the show, Mister Reyes?"
Reyes just nodded, Sam teasingly rubbing her breasts against his face as America climbed across his back. "Good."
When America's toned arm settled across his throat, Reyes didn't even have time to gasp. When a dull snap sounded and his eyes bugged, Sam looked away.
As America disengaged herself from the dead drug dealer and pulled her panties back on, she looked over to find Sam holding a tube of lipstick in front of the room's mirror. The red letters read: Carnales not welcome.
America shot the blonde a silent thumbs-up.
When they slipped from the private room, winking at the guards as they ogled the two girls' bare breasts, America felt another shiver, both arousal and triumph.
As the guards re-entered the room and cried out in alarm, Sam and America broke into a run; by the time the bodyguards were on their trail, they were already in the Vice King-yellow car left parked out front for them. As bullets shuddered after them, Sam shrieked and dove into America's lap. America grinned at the sight; now that the Carnales were all but assured to retaliate against the Vice Kings, she and Sam needed to find somewhere to celebrate.
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Only in America